


Symptoms

by taeminki



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 13:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminki/pseuds/taeminki
Summary: There's no shame in falling out of love.





	Symptoms

**Author's Note:**

> ♪ if i -svt

Mingyu's fingertips gently brushed the corner of Wonwoo's glasses. Wonwoo's eyes fluttered shut carefully, his belief that Mingyu would be careful enough not to poke him slowly fading away. Mingyu carefully lifted Wonwoo's thin, round glasses from his face and carefully folded the legs beneath the lenses. Careful again, he placed the glasses on the counter, and then his hands were free to do whatever they pleased. Wonwoo's eyes were open again, his gaze wondering what Mingyu would do next. Mingyu was at a loss, for words and for touches. He craved a scratch over his chest, where, after seven years of being in love with Jeon Wonwoo, an itch had formed. For some time, Mingyu had been able to ignore it. It had been wiped away when Wonwoo's hand slid over the area of skin and comforted him, loved him. It was getting harder and harder to ignore, however. No amount of scratching could begin to soothe it; Wonwoo's hands just didn't do the trick anymore.

Mingyu finally moved his hands when an idea came to his head. His right hand hovered about Wonwoo's chest for a moment, and then he brought his fingers down and curled them, allowing his nails to face Wonwoo's skin. The sharp hairs dug against Wonwoo's chest, and Mingyu scratched-- just once. The sudden pain shocked Wonwoo into gasping, but he didn't move away, and he didn't look confused. If anything, he looked pleasured, as if Mingyu had just relieved an itch. Mingyu came to the easy conclusion that Wonwoo's itch was still scratch-able, and that he hadn't reached Mingyu's level of discomfort quite yet. Mingyu swallowed some heavy words on his tongue and allowed himself to lick over the scratch, allowed his hands to navigate Wonwoo's body in the familiar way they always did-- the path Mingyu had been studying since he was sixteen years old. He knew it by itchy heart.

Some time into the making of their love, Wonwoo's hand found Mingyu's. Mingyu's left palm had been stationary on the pillow as his hips moved to make Wonwoo feel good, as his lips nipped at Wonwoo's and wished for a better kiss. Wonwoo snuck his hand right beneath Mingyu's, and Mingyu felt a flip of his heart as their fingers laced through each other, as Wonwoo gripped and craved and Mingyu gripped and gave. It distracted from the discomfort long enough that Mingyu felt like he was seventeen all over again, having just mastered Wonwoo's body and having all the love in the world for him. Strange, Mingyu thought, that he should lose everything Wonwoo deserved.

"If I could," Mingyu started before he could even think about what he was saying. He had lay himself down next to Wonwoo, white blankets thrown over sweaty bodies. Wonwoo turned his head to look at Mingyu, an eyebrow raised on his pale face. Mingyu thought a brief moment about how much darker his skin was than Wonwoo's-- an attractive trait between couples, their friends always said. They looked good together because Wonwoo was pale and Mingyu was dark. Mingyu never figured out why they said that-- not until he held Wonwoo's hand and smiled at the lines of white across his skin.

"If you could." Wonwoo repeated, and the smile faded. The white didn't look attractive anymore; his own skin didn't look attractive anymore. Little things like that weren't worth it anymore, and it broke Mingyu's itchy heart. He looked into Wonwoo's curious eyes and swallowed his hesitation, making way for courage and regret, "If I could take us back-- back to when we were seventeen... madly in love...."

"You would." Wonwoo finished for him. Mingyu didn't agree, but Wonwoo didn't need confirmation. His statement wasn't a suggestion, or a guess; it was a _statement_ , because he knew exactly what Mingyu was trying to say. A sigh escaped his lips and he looked toward the ceiling. His grip didn't feel as tight anymore; Mingyu thought their fingers might be slipping away from each other. He almost held on, but what purpose was that going to serve? Why hold on when they were both letting go?

"Seventeen was a perfect age, wasn't it? We finally knew each other, and nothing was scary. We were in love. We were happy-- we--" Wonwoo stopped. He brought Mingyu's hand into the air, attached to his own. They were holding on enough to move together; and they moved to Wonwoo's stomach, gently settling above his belly button. Wonwoo's other hand came to play with their grip. Their fingers slipped from each other, but they still held on just a little bit.

"If I could--" Mingyu felt the tears coming before he could think to stop them. He wondered why it hurt, talking to Wonwoo like this, in a time when they both knew and agreed that they weren't in love anymore. He wondered why it hurt to look at Wonwoo; he wondered why it hurt to think about letting Wonwoo go. He wasn't in love anymore, so why was this so painful?

"There's no shame in falling out of love." Wonwoo was crying, too. He was starting to sit up, to let go of Mingyu's hand and wipe his tears away instead. Wonwoo's left hand lay limp at his side, his arm simply propping him up. Mingyu wanted to reach for him, but he'd already let go. They weren't moving together anymore. They were on the same page, but they weren't going anywhere, not like they used to-- back when they were seventeen, reading at the same pace, holding hands beneath the book and turning the pages with intertwined fingers. Seventeen, a year into a perfect love, when everything was okay-- it seemed so _okay_. Seventeen, when love seemed to last forever. Seventeen, when nothing could have broken them apart. Seventeen-- what could have happened after seventeen?

Seventeen was meant to be. Perhaps twenty-three wasn't.


End file.
